A Case Of Dysfunction
by RPearce
Summary: 5th Yr Draco seems to be suffering from a severe case of 'Magical Dysfunction'. When faced with the possibility that his powers may never return, Draco considers confronting his father…but what effect could this have on their lives?
1. Braindead

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A Case Of Dysfunction

Draco seems to be suffering from a severe case of _Magical Dysfunction_.

When faced with the possibility that his powers may never return, Draco considers confronting his father…but what effect could this have on his future?

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**Braindead**

Draco stretched and rolled over as the distant scurrying of first year feet echoed down the corridor. He had free periods till after break, and he intended to waste them in the dorms sleeping.

"Draco!" Someone nudged him, he guessed it was Crabbe or Goyle.

"Bugger off!" He groaned, burying his head in his pillow.

"Quidditch practice Malfoy!" They nudged him again and he growled angrily at his forgetfulness. It had been switched to Wednesday morning for this week only.

"Damnit!" he roared and threw off his covers. Crabbe and Goyle hovered in their quidditch gear, as Malfoy paced about the room fetching his own. "I'll meet you there!" He waved his hand dismissively, whilst looking under the bed for his gauntlets. Frustrated he grabbed his wand. "Accio gauntlets!" he flicked his wand and waited for them to appear.

Nothing.

"Accio gauntlets!" He said clearer, flicking his wand more gracefully. Again, nothing happened.

He rolled his eyes and got himself dressed in whatever he could find. Turning up for practice without his gauntlets, gloves or his quidditch cloak, he looked very much like he had fallen out of bed and into whatever was on the floor at the time.

Urquhart stifled a snigger as he sized Malfoy up. "Wakey wakey!" He mocked, whilst ticking his name off the register.

Malfoy gave him an unimpressed glare and yawned lazily. He usually enjoyed practice, and was always on time, besides Urquhart dared not chuck him for fear of losing their Nimbus2001 brooms, which Draco's father had kindly donated to the school.

"Lets kick off!" Urquhart shouted, "Two by two chaser formation flying, I want beaters to the east and west, Malfoy I want you circling low level, practice maneuvering-"

As the captain barked orders Draco mounted his broom and gripped it firmly, concentrating on taking off.

_UP! _A tiny vibration flickered through the broom as he mentally commanded it to move. The broom did not budge.

Malfoy frowned as everyone else started to mount their own brooms and veer off to their positions. "Up." He commanded loudly. The broom lifted ever so slightly and then dropped, almost knocking him off.

Draco lost his temper and threw it on the floor. "Hey Urquhart! Bloody broom's faulty!" He yelled. The captain sighed and flew back to the ground, dismounting next to Malfoy and picking up his discarded broom. Tucking it between his legs he gripped the hilt and flew three circles around Draco before leaping off.

"Looks fine to me!" He sneered. Draco snatched it back and tried again. "Up!" He shouted. "UP! GET UP!" He seethed.

"Forget it Malfoy go back to bed! It's not like I can stop you if I tried!" With that Urquhart got back on his own broom and continued practice without his seeker.

Draco's head was filled with concern. He was one of the best flyers in the school, why couldn't he complete the simple task of taking off?

He remembered the trouble he had with his wand, and got it out as he marched back toward the main entrance. He passed Colin Creevey with his camera and decided to test something. "Evanesco." He pointed his wand over his shoulder, in an attempt to make Creevey's camera disappear. After hearing no response he turned around to see if it worked. Colin still had his camera, and walked on blissfully unaware of Draco's attempts to hex him.

Draco tried a variety but nothing was working. He began to panic…his magic was gone.

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	2. Diagnosis

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**Diagnosis**

"Mr. Malfoy?" Madame Pince looked up from her desk at the end of the infirmary, which was unusually empty. "Are you well?"

"I'm not sure." He confessed. "I …er…I couldn't fly."

"Then I suggest you check your broom." She raised her eyebrows and returned to the papers on her desk.

"That's the thing...the brooms fine…it's me…_I'm_ not fine." Draco said.

Madam Pince looked up with a frown. "Oh." She stood up. "That's interesting." She hovered over to him and motioned for him to sit. Draco perched himself onto a nearby bed. She busied herself checking for abnormalities in his eyes, nose, and ears. "Is that all that's wrong?" She asked, opening his mouth wide.

"…spells…I can't do magic…of any kind." He looked nervous as she wore a face of deep concern.

"And you're not feeling ill…now that's very interesting." She sucked on her wand in thought.

"Well…what's wrong with me?" Draco pleaded.

Pince shrugged and took her wand out of her mouth. "I have no idea…it could just be a bug, and your body is storing energy in order to fight it…but you're the first case I've come across…then again it is early in the morning maybe in a few hours…"

"No one else I know is sick…everyone I've been in contact with is fine! What else could it be?" Draco asked.

"Stress is the most common cause for Magical Dysfunction." She nodded, as if this were the answer to everything.

Draco leant forward. "I'm not stressed. Next?"

Madame Pince swallowed nervously and fetched a stool for herself. "As you know the majority of witches and wizards today have inherited their magic from one or two wizard parents, the wizard gene being recessive, it is rare for two muggle parents to have a wizard child, and it is rarer still, for two wizard parents to have a non-magic child or Squib."

"What's this got to do with me?"

"It is very rare… but sometimes, two pureblood wizarding parents with no muggle genes whatsoever can have a child with little or no magical power what…so…ever."

"But!" Draco stuttered, "But I have powers! _Had _powers I mean I had it, it can't just leave! Can it?"

"Magic can be greatly affected during puberty…in some cases a magical surge usually occurs between the ages of eleven and fifteen, do you remember surges…using magic without a wand?" She asked.

Draco recalled having accidentally set his bed on fire during a temper tantrum when he was eight. "I started early." He explained.

"During this time you are taught how to control it with wands at school, and then it levels out into a steady flow as you mature…its possible however unlikely…that your magical surge…is over…and your magic is falling at an alarming rate."

Draco couldn't believe what she was saying, and nodded his head disbelievingly. "You mean I'm becoming a squib?" He leapt off the bed, gasping for breath. "_A squib?_" He grimaced as if the word was dirty.

"It's just a theory Draco, I only know of one person that this happened to in my lifetime, but no others! The truth is I don't know _why_ your magic is failing, it may come back on its own…although I must warn you that there is a chance that it won't…it's impossible to tell!"

"Are you gonna tell my father?" Draco asked fearfully.

"Ha do you think I should be the one to tell Lucius Malfoy his son has lost his magic?" She laughed as if he had just cracked a joke, and imitated cursing herself. Draco just stared desperately at the floor, imagining his father's face if he found out.

"You said you knew of one person? Who was it?" Draco asked.

"You know him." Madam Pince sighed. "Poor boy. It was Argus Filch."

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	3. The Squib

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**The Squib**

Malfoy walked drearily back toward the common room. Madame Pince had taken pity on him and written numerous sick notes for his teachers, suggesting that he spend the rest of the day in bed, avoid stressful situations and to return to her the following day for assessment.

He reached the entrance hall as the quidditch team returned from practice. Crabbe and Goyle waved to him and motioned for the commonroom. Malfoy nodded and made to follow when out of the corner of his eye he saw Mrs. Norris patrolling nearby. Curiosity got the better of him and he followed her to find Filch mopping floors in the next corridor.

"What d'you want?" He said gruffly, spreading the liquid over Malfoy's shoes without a care.

"I wanted your advice." Draco said honestly.

"And what would _Master Malfoy_ require?" He sneered.

"You're a squib right?" Malfoy asked, forgetting his manners. Filch never seemed to have any anyway.

"Don't talk to me like that!" Filch snapped. "I'm still human and _pureblood_! Not that you care!"

"I do care!" Draco blurted. "Mr. Filch I just discovered that my magic has vanished…and I mean gone!" He laughed, his unease and worry etched in his smiling face. "Do you understand my situation? Have you even _met_ my parents? I need to talk to someo-"

Filch held up his hand and sucked his teeth in thought. "Alright…but not here...my office." He pointed to the nearby door, and Draco went in obediently, sitting himself down in front of Filch's desk. Filch finished mopping the floor and joined him not long after.

"I must say I'm surprised that it's happened to _you_ of all people!" Filch smiled with a victorious grin as he sat down.

"What happened sir?" Draco sighed. "I need to know."

Filch pressed his fingers together and leant back in his chair. "Its not widely known, but I first came to Hogwarts as a student…spent four years learning magic…my parents were pureblood too! Then one day in my fourth year my magic suddenly stopped. It was months gone before I realized it wasn't just _magical dysfunction_…it was never going to come back. My parents were embarrassed and ashamed. It turns out I wasn't born a wizard like they thought. I was born a squib, but showed wizard abilities as I developed, only to lose them when I reached manhood."

"I lost mine today." Draco confessed.

"I'm sorry about that." Filch shrugged. "When the time comes to tell your Dad…well…lets hope he's more forgiving than mine!"

"What did he do?" Draco asked.

"He threw me out. Dumbledore took me in, couldn't teach me magic anymore but he let me stay at Hogwarts and earn my keep. Better than an orphanage…better than _muggles_." Filch went quiet, and Draco shifted uncomfortably.

"Naaah I wouldn't worry just yet boy!" Filch patted him on the shoulder encouragingly. "Might just be Magical Dysfunction…_your dad need never know_!" He winked. Draco smiled weakly and stood up to leave. "Thanks sir!" He nodded respectfully and left. Filch sat back in his chair, a proud smile stretched across his face. He had earned the respect of a student…he was an important member of staff after all.

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	4. Dirty Little Secrets

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**Dirty Little Secrets**

Draco was about to enter the common room when professor Snape glided from his office to stop him. "I heard you missed practice Draco." He frowned.

"I'm not well sir."

"I hope you will be strong enough for the match on Friday. I would hate to have to tell your father you won't be flying." He glared inhumanely, and Draco gulped. He had forgotten about the Match. It was Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, and his father always attended matches. It also meant if his magic did not return, he would have to confront him about it.

"Er…I hope so sir!" he shook the thoughts from his head and put on a brave face.

"Good…dismissed." Snape nodded, and Draco wearily passed through the wall leading to the common room.

He was greeted by a smug looking Urquhart sitting on the sofa Malfoy had always claimed.

"You're in my seat!" Draco sneered, hoping intimidation would work. Urquhart usually succumbed…but today he had leverage.

"You can sit somewhere else today!" He sneered back.

This would usually be the point where Draco would hex him with some dark spell he had learned from his father. He clenched his fists and seethed, turning to go to the dormitories.

"_I knew it!_" Urquhart removed his own wand and Malfoy froze. "_You can't do magic!_"

"Urquhart you _dare-_" Malfoy whirled around, to come face to face with a wand and Urquhart's smiling face.

"What's the matter pureblood?" He sneered. "Afraid are we?" He pressed the tip between Draco's eyes and watched him swallow his fear.

"_If my father hears about this-"_

"Your father doesn't even know!" Urquhart scoffed. "How would you explain why you didn't fight back? If he so much as looks at me I'll spill your dirty little secret, and sit back and watch the drama unfold…hell…I might even report to the Daily Prophet! Imagine the look on his face when the whole world finds out his son is a squib before he does!"

"What do you want?" Draco hissed, furious at the thought that he was being blackmailed.

"Oh the usual…gold…respect…having the great Draco Malfoy doing _my_ bidding instead of the other way around!" he smirked at the thought.

"Will you take a cheque?" Draco sighed, raised an eyebrow and displayed an unimpressed sneer.

"You have your own checkbook?" Urquhart was slightly taken aback, thinking Draco would at least put up some sort of fight. Instead he was shocked to find him acting as if this were an everyday occurrence. Maybe he had been blackmailed a lot.

"Are you kidding? I have my own Vault!" Draco lazily pulled out a quill and headed for the Dorms. Urquhart lowered his wand and followed obediently.

Draco went into his dorm and opened his trunk with a groan, rummaging through it for something. Urquhart seemed a little unnerved by his behavior and tentatively walked in after him.

No sooner had he stepped inside the room did Malfoy stand up. "_Gag him!_" His face contorted into one of deepest loathing. Urquhart yelped as the door slammed shut behind him and the strong arm of Vincent Crabbe swiped him from behind. A fist slammed into the side of his face and he fell to the floor with a cry. The two thugs lifted him to his knees and gagged him with a nearby scarf, which turned crimson from the blood that spewed from his nose.

"_You dare try and blackmail me?_" Draco approached, his eyes glowing from his rage. "_You may have leverage over me Urquhart, but I'm not a fool!_"

Urquhart struggled to be free but Crabbe and Goyle held him fast, despite being two years younger than the seventh year, they were still two feet taller. They didn't know what was wrong when Draco walked into the dorm, fixed them with a cold glare and motioned his head behind him in warning. All they new was that he was giving them the signal _be ready._

Draco lazilly scribbled a hefty sum onto a cheque and tore it off without a care. Leaning over he stuffed the cheque into Urquhart's pocket, and fixed him with an icy glare.

"_Now you listen to me._" He hissed softly. "_I am paying you this gold as a token of good faith…its more than enough…and if you so much as utter my 'condition' to anybody…i'll rip your spleen out through your throat!_" he grabbed Urquhart's jaw roughly. "_My father is coming to the match on Friday! I will tell him then! If he finds out beforehand…I'll be sure to blame you, and even if I can't hex you, I know people who most certainly can…and they have no qualms about using unforgivables! Non whatsoever!_"

He patted his quidditch captain's cheek mockingly and nodded for Crabbe and Goyle to release him. "I'll see you at tea yeah?" He smiled happily and left the seventh year sweating in his dorm.

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End file.
